


If We Rise

by kingdok



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Survival Games
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:22:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21868201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingdok/pseuds/kingdok
Summary: Three more days, three more nights. Three, and then they would meet.This one would be remembered, only that could be sure.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	1. The Draw

There were three strong candidates for victory, three obvious champions to even the casual observer’s eye. The first and foremost was Xephos, the tall, strangely blue-eyed one from the desert. At first glance, the thin, quiet caravanner seemed a dubious bet, but he wore an air of fierce resilience like a suit of armor, or perhaps a crown, and his confident show of strength at the Polls was more than enough to silence any doubt.

Next was Rythian, the blazing mystery from the volcano. What Xephos lacked in grand first impression, the sullen hunter made up for tenfold. His battleworn skin, old-fashioned garb, and gallery of strange tattoos sent rumors spinning around him like moths at a flame (time traveller? cult member? assassin?). And on top of it all, the man fought like the monsters he hunted—cunningly, viciously, and most importantly, relentlessly. A very exciting Candidate indeed.

But arguably the most exciting was the third ranked, Lalna. A butcher from the valley known to dabble in the sketchier and more explosive sides of science, he exuded “unstable” like the first seconds of the universe. Not proven but presumed to have caused the deaths of a fair amount of people (and an even fairer amount of severe injuries), his stainless steel grin and slightly-too-wide, slightly-too-unblinking eyes sent shivers down the spines of even the hardiest of men. His potential in the Pit? Limitless.

Beyond the top three, there was also a fairly sizable “Fucked” group of Candidates. Not the official term, of course—“Underdogs” was in the rulebook—but it did perhaps offer a more pinpointed description. This year, more than a quarter of the Candidates fell into the category. Not a problem, though, a good early bloodbath would surely ensue.

The marsh girl Nano was at the very bottom of the rungs. A shame, really, the circumstances, as a defiant light could be seen in her dark eyes, and her scores and physical performance both showed great potential. But the fact was, at thirteen years old, for her the Pit spelled only certain death. Violent, gruesome, _sensational _, certain death.__

____

____

The other more notable underdog was Honeydew, the ashen elder from the mountains. He was an interesting one, though, being the only of this year’s Candidates to be a return guest to the Pit. Usually, previous winners sat higher on the rankings, with their promising record and whatnot, but it had been a solid while since the bearded jeweler had worn the victory laurels and obviously the years had not been kind to him. Nothing tended to be able to fill the hole in one’s soul created after killing one’s way to riches, but the man had clearly attempted with food and drink. Or, as the years went on, mostly just drink. Yes, he would go, within hours at best. The mighty do fall quickly when they lose all sense of fight. 

The other underdogs, the painter Nilesy from the gulf and the bartender Ravs from the cliffs, were woefully unremarkable.

The Draw had produced an almost shameful amount of weakness that year, but made up for in its Wild Cards. Usually just one Wild Card, any player whose future, for various (but necessarily exciting) reasons, contained equally likely outcomes of success or defeat, inhabited the rankings, and some years there were none at all. But now, two Wild Cards prepared in the final days before the Pit, two of perhaps the more interesting to ever play. 

The first was Sjin, the lanky rancher from the plain. His Wild Card acquisition stemmed from his baffling ability to fuck with people—a talent that came from actual cunning or simple lucky stupidity (or a troubling concoction of both) it was impossible to tell. His ultimate weapon was his tongue, a tool used to ensnare, distract, and deceive, but on other, quite frequent, occasions it was also his ultimate vice— unable to keep a secret, too quick to make the wrong jibe to the wrong person at the wrong time. The man practically blurred the line between genius and fool out of existence, and nothing spelled chaos better than that.

The second earned her Wild Card for even more dangerous reasons, and differed from her partner in title in several ways. For a start, Zoeya from the jungle was undoubtedly intelligent, if a little unfocused, and most would say her ability or desire to hurt even a fly was nonexistent. But the real difference, and the one that landed the redhead her title, was this: Sjin, for all his troublemaking and stirring the pot, harbored no genuine evil in him—only a severe indifference to the world and all things in it (and again, who knew the level of idiocy at play). Zoeya, on the other hand, harbored deep inside a turbulent fury, a seething beast of rage dying at nothing to get out, to _finally _unleash, and for a moment at the Polls it did—shocking the world with its brief but terrifying sudden display of strength before hastily being chained back in by a Zoeya now infinitely more afraid of her own self yet even more infinitely more relieved, more gleeful, more free— Who knew the sweet, smiley girl the world collectively felt pity for at the Draw could hold such incredible madness? Who knew its origin? Who cared? The fact was, it existed, and oh, she could reign it in for a while, of course she had been all her life, but eventually the time would come when that would work no longer, an ultimate snap would occur, permanent and undoable, and the Pit was nothing if not the final straw, in whatever way needed.__

__The rest of the Candidates fell somewhere in between, not the bottom nor the top nor the side. They all had their talents but in the end, the very end, it simply wouldn’t be down to them._ _

__Lomadia of the woods, strong and sturdy with a good head on her shoulders, her only lasting relationships to routine and simplicity, ultimately too bland to be a winner._ _

__Sips of the tundra, shrewder than he let on and possessing the correct amount of dubious morals, a right slippery eel if there ever was one, ultimately too spineless to be a winner._ _

__Zylus of the basin, heart in the right place and no qualms about speaking up when needed, never having felt true passion once in his slow life, ultimately too directionless to be a winner._ _

__Three more days, three more nights. Three, and then they would meet._ _

__This one would be remembered, only that could be sure._ _


	2. Zero

It was deathly quiet, but for the rapid dance of her heartbeat through her chest. She curled already sweaty fingers even tighter over the hilt of her sword, watching the screen-translucent numbers flash down before her eyes.  
Sixteen. Fifteen.  
She drew as steady of a breath as she could. Her resolve from the hours before seemed so flimsy, now that it was finally time. How could she do this?  
Eleven. Ten.  
She closed her eyes, screwed them shut. She didn’t have time to second guess. She knew that. She ran through the plan again in her mind, steps so familiar from countless subconscious retracings, their effect almost lost in repetition. But still she recited.  
Seven. Six.  
Run like hell. Find some sort of shelter, as hidden as possible. Slowly, surely, stock up on supplies, strength. Keep out of sight.  
Five. Four.  
It was barely something, hardly even anything. But there was no more time, and it was all she had. Lomadia opened her eyes.  
Three. Two.  
_Run like hell. ___

____

-

____

He did not watch the numbers. Time was a trick, a manmade trap and distraction, and those who wished to survive worked on instinct and observation alone. The seconds ticked down, and he kept his eyes closed. No, he did not bother with time. All that mattered in the hunt was the target and the means.  
The target. You did not bother with weak prey, that was rule number one. The weak knew they could not beat the strong, and therefore fought among themselves in a vain attempt at victory. The weak weeded themselves out.  
His focus was on the strong.  
The caravanner. The butcher. Perhaps the rancher. Most definitely the jungle woman. They were all unpredictable, the former due to inscrutability, the meat men to instability, and the latter…she was something he didn’t quite understand, and that spelt the greatest threat of all.  
Eliminate them. To survive, that was the only option.  
The barest hint of a smile passed over Rythian’s lips.  
_Just another hunt. ___

____

-

____

Her fingers shook against her mother’s blue stone, knotted on its new cord around her neck. She kept her gaze fixed fast to the countdown, unable to look away.  
Seconds were longer than that, surely? How was zero so close?  
She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready.  
She would not cry, not again. Not now. But even as the thought entered her mind she felt the sting of tears and she fought to keep her jaw steady.  
It wasn’t fair. She knew there was no point in despair, not anymore, not when there wasn’t a single thing she could do about it. But the familiar anger-terror welled up in her, knocking any rationality and courage she’d scrounged up from her head.  
She’d imagined this moment, envisioned herself cool and collected as she stepped out into the Pit, prepared to take on the worst with steely grace. But now it was here, and Nano let the tears slip from her eyes.  
Three… two…  
_I’m not ready. ___

____

-

____

Her mind was blank. Throughout the past several weeks it had been roaring, frantic and on fire with the sudden terror and excitement of new trials and electric discoveries. But now, the pinnacle was upon her, and any solid thought had vanished from her head. Half-formed plans, desperate ideas, all cyclically dashing through her mind the past month, even in sleep, were now absent, leaving behind an empty space that was somehow much more deafening than any panicked rambling before.  
The fear, so persistent, so gripping, that had borne down on her incessantly since the Polls, was gone.  
The moment she had been dreading with every fiber of her being was finally here, and she realized, with a detached sort of interest, the only feeling she could seem to muster up, that she didn’t care.  
It was all over anyway, no matter what happened, and it had been since the moment her name came out of the Draw.  
She felt it again then, curling out of whatever deep depths of unconscious she normally shoved it, where she did her best to squash it whenever it made so much as a shiver against her woken thought, but now she backed down. It welled up in her, and she let it, that anger so bright and sharp and primal it burned against her skin, and this time she welcomed it. It took its place into her front mind and this time it was different, because she accepted it there, and with this new sharpened indifference she was now in control of it.  
For the time being, anyway, but that was all she needed.  
The counter approached zero, and Zoeya slammed her fists against the glass.  
_Bring it. ___


	3. Fighting Stance

The world around Lomadia was a deafened blur, the only sensation the burning in her limbs and the aching, all-consuming drive to get _away. ___

__She didn’t know how long she ran, just that she knew she couldn’t stop. She had no idea where the others had started, but she came across no one on her mindless sprint through the trees. So she kept going._ _

__Just somewhere to regroup. Find her bearings. Wrap her head around it all. That’s what she needed._ _

__She didn’t really notice she was slowing down until the sloping land was suddenly less sloping and slightly more precipitous, and she physically could not run farther. So finally she allowed herself to stop, catching her breath but keeping on alert, ready to get going again at a moment’s notice if need be._ _

__But long moments passed she heard nothing, no creeping footsteps from the gloom, no deathly whistle of unsheathing blades, and she let herself relax just enough to properly look around._ _

__Lomadia had made her way up the side of a mountain, a steep hill that stretched it’s way into the clouds miles above her. The trees were thinner at this height, but still numerous enough to provide adequate cover. The land was rocky, large boulders dotting the slopes and pebbles digging into the soles of her boots. The more she looked, a niggle of hope worked its way into her head. It was a good position. Good cover, good vantage points, easy to defend…_ _

__But she had to get to work. Someone would come looking for her, eventually, and if she wanted to be ready she needed to move fast. Quickly, she got to action._ _

__A short scout revealed a suitable basecamp location, a small alcove tucked between a particularly steep portion of mountain and a massive boulder. The back end would need reinforcing to close up, but it was narrow and she figured several thick rocks or branches would do the trick. The front end was hidden from most angles and, opening over a lower swath of land, provided a stealthy vantage point from which she could keep an eye on any comings and goings._ _

__A shallow stream nearby made a water source. Food would be more difficult, but for the moment she put it off. She had some ideas for later, and now was time to fortify._ _

__Her first item of business was closing up the alcove. She started with a few sizable stones stacked as naturally as possible, then scoped out enough leafy branches to cover up the rest. It wasn’t perfect, and she’d had to cut most of the branches off bushes with her sword, leaving behind visibly unnatural slices, but she counted on it being enough. Hopefully, it would only stick out if one knew it was there._ _

__The sun was now high in the sky, burning hard on the back of her neck and slicking her palms with sweat, but the discomfort barely registered against her steeled focus, which, with a proper shelter completed, had now turned to sustenance. Food and water. Even with her current one-track mindset, the scratch of thirst worked its way against her throat. But she refrained. Her water source was a stream, much better than a standing pool or lake, but she wouldn’t take any risk of becoming ill. If she wasn’t at peak performance in every sense, it was over._ _

__She needed fire._ _

__A crucial step to survival, but one that brought its own myriad of issues with it. Namely, smoke. If she wasn’t careful, boiling a bit of water could be the equivalent of shooting a flare up into the sky. Secrecy was currently her ultimate defense, and smoke would bring it crashing down like an earthquake to a card tower._ _

__Many items made good fuel for smokeless fires, but with charcoal and coke currently unavailable, Lomadia spent the next couple hours scouring the ground (but keeping an ever vigilant eye out for company). Small, dry twigs with no larger a diameter than her finger. Old animal droppings, preferably about the size of her thumb. She gathered as much as she could as quickly as the could. The ground was dry now, but she never knew when it would next rain._ _

__When her back was thoroughly aching and she’d handled as much shit as she could bear for the time being, she made her way back to her alcove (or the Hole, as the was starting to call it in her head) and, after a stressful amount of failed attempts, there was a small, smokeless flame crackling at the mouth of her base._ _

__The rest of the day consisted of devising a way to store water (A shoddily carved out log—unappealing but the best she could manage at the moment), acquiring food (only a plant-based diet for now— swords, while good at killing people, were not much useful for anyone else, especially in the hands of an inexperienced hunter such as herself), and figuring out what the hell she was going to do next._ _

__The sun was inching its way below the horizon, and Lomadia felt considerably better with several gulps of clean water and a handful of blackcurrants in her system. She was now working on a door for the Hole, or rather a cover or sorts for remaining hidden when she was unable to keep watch. Getting the tough mountain grasses to knot together was annoyingly the most difficult thing she’d tackled all day, but by the time it was too dark to see she’d somehow managed to cobble something together that was both lightweight and would block her from view without standing out (too much). With a final frustrated sigh she took one more cautionary look over the empty landscape before placing the grass door and shutting out the last of the day’s light._ _

__Lomadia was still feeling far from safe, but her nerves were steadied by the success of completed tasks and for the first time that day she let herself start to really think._ _

__Nobody was dead. Throughout the day, she’d waited for the message in her ocular implant, but it had been silent since the final test run that morning an hour before entering the Pit. This hadn’t been the anticipated outcome; there was usually a quick bloodbath at the start of every game, and with four Underdogs this year audiences had been excited for an especially lethal starting frenzy. But it had never come, and Lomadia’s vision remained uninterrupted._ _

__She didn’t know how to feel about that. On the one hand, she didn’t want people to be dead. Of course, she had never been especially fond of death before the Pit, even with those she didn’t know, and now she’d spent the last couple months in the company of her fellow Candidates. She didn’t know any of them exceptionally well (strong personal bonds between Candidates were discouraged to ensure forcing them to kill each other went as smoothly as possible), but she still felt a strange sense of companionship with them. They’d all been forced into the same thing, plucked from their lives to serve the entertainment of a twisted government. She couldn’t say she liked all of them—most of them, really—but she also wouldn’t feel good at their deaths. Some might even sting a bit._ _

__If she lived to see them._ _

__And with that thought, she remembered exactly where she was. No, zero deaths was nothing but bad news. If she wanted to make it out of here—and she truly believed she had a chance, fuck Polls and fuck opinions of so-called experts, who were they to think they knew her?—then people had to die. Everyone had to die. And the less of the killing she had to do the better. But there was no room for sentimentality in the Pit._ _

__In the near-pitch dark of the Hole, Lomadia leaned back against the stone and balled her fists. Right now, she would rest. Catch a few hours of watchful sleep, just enough to keep her senses sharp. She had built up a defense today, dug her feet into the ground for a fighter’s stance. She curled her fingers around her sword._ _

__Tomorrow, she would swing._ _


	4. Awaken

The buck made its way lazily through the brush, taking its time to graze among the branches. It was young, and obviously used to the sheltered life it had had so far in the Pit. The wildlife here had no natural predators, and the buck didn’t even flinch as Rythian experimentally rustled a branch.

_No predators until now, anyway._

Hunting here was so easy, it was almost laughable. But the Directors wanted survival as easy as possible. Because starvation and hypothermia were far less entertaining than brutal murder, of course.

The whole place was built to allow the Candidates to live long enough to kill each other. Food and water sources were plentiful, and supply packs were hidden all over the Pit stuffed with useful items. The Directors even took it upon themselves to create hidden hideouts in the land, areas that seemed like lucky natural shelters at first glance but on closer inspection were perhaps a bit too clean, a bit too smooth… 

It was just a cell, in the end. With more trees and open sky than the usual kind, maybe, but a cell nonetheless. And the only way out was to be the last one in it. 

Rythian released the bowstring. With a dull _thwump_ , the arrow hit home.

He approached his kill, making no more effort to conceal his presence, and finally the buck scampered away, if still in a half-hearted manner. Rythian would have liked to kill it--deer meat was better than rodent any day--but it would be too hard to conceal such a large bounty and he had no way to preserve it anyway. Until he got out of this manufactured battleground, stoat and rabbit and such would have to do.

Back in his camp, he got a fire going and prepared the rabbit, a task made more awkward than usual on account of his only available blades being his katars. He’d discovered three supply packs on his initial scout after the Release, where he’d been pleased to find the bow, but no knife or dagger or anything useful for skinning small animals. But Rythian was nothing if not capable with any blade, and soon he was feasting rather pathetically on roast bunny.

Belly fuller, and with three other small mammals waiting for their turn over the flames, Rythian felt fairly settled in. Just to humor the Directors, he had picked out one of the manmade hidey-holes—a cave with a narrow entrance concealed by vines—and with about 24 hours down since the Release, had set himself up a capable temporary home. A little damp, with perhaps more roommates of the creepy-crawly sentiment than ideal, but considerably well stocked. One of the supply packs had contained a bedroll, as well as some tins of food (beans and potatoes mostly, but one pack of dry crackers), the bow, ten arrows, about twenty meters of synthetic rope, leather bracers, a canteen, some technical bits like wires and switches, a pad of paper, and a little vial of some unknown powdered substance that he was hesitant to handle.

He donned the bracers, looped the rope and canteen around his waist, placed the food along with his kills, and set the paper, tech, and mystery vial aside where they could be useless out of his way. 

Rythian crossed his arms and settled back against the stone. He was feeling good.

On the first day, he had come across the big, bearded one. Ravs of the Cliffs. Their chambers had been about half a mile apart, and he’d stumbled across him quickly. He chose to observe him silently for a while, if more out of curiosity than actual usefulness. The bartender, though physically tough, had nothing noteworthy in the way of brains, as far as Rythian could tell, and raw survival instinct could go far, but only so far, even mixed with a certain level of brawn. He would inevitably get taken care of, so for the time being Rythian just watched.

The glass chambers had sunk away into the ground soon after the Release, leaving behind an empty tube in the ground a little over a meter wide and two meters tall. It was in this hole that Ravs had set up camp, an interesting move that was suspectedly tied to a fear of the unknown-ness of the Pit. The release chamber was all Ravs knew, and he was sticking by it.

By the time Rythian left to get working for himself about forty minutes later, the bartender hadn’t made very much progress. It had taken him almost half that time to visibly get his wits together and even start on something halfway productive, and the rest of the time spent frantically gathering a large amount of sticks and grasses. When Rythian had a check back later, however, the shrubbery had been put to good use as a covering for the hole that actually did a more than passable job of camouflage. Rythian could not see much more progress from his standpoint, but Ravs had a more hardened and sure look about him that led Rythian to believe he’d done something in the way of getting himself together.

Besides Ravs, he hadn’t come across any other Candidates. And it seemed like no one else had, either, since his vision never came alight with the message of a death. It was possible he could have missed it while he rested the night before, but he was a very light sleeper and the light was unnatural enough in his vision that he doubted it would have passed him by.

Which was intriguing.

The Pit was not very big. An area of thirteen square miles, one taken up by a lake in the center and the other twelve taken up by one release chamber each. It would be very easy for a Candidate to immediately scour the land around them and pick off at least a couple opponents, and most years, that is exactly what happened. It was a popular strategy to shut other Candidates down before they had a chance to build themselves up, usually leading to an early bloodbath event called a Frenzy. 

For the less bold Candidates, the promise of more useful or powerful supplies stashed around the center of the Pit was usually enough to draw people closer together. And if that didn’t work, releasing a few dozen bombs or monsters closer and closer to the center generally ensured a migration there eventually. 

But while this Pit had its fair share of the less bold, there were certainly a few people Rythian could imagine might have embarked on a Frenzy. But it seemed everyone was making like himself and Ravs, laying low and stocking up. For the time being, at least.

Well, that’s about enough dwelling. Rythian stood up, dusting himself off, and slipped out of his cave. The late morning sun was already burning hot on his skin, same as yesterday, and he took a moment to relish it. The Directors had machines in the sky to manipulate the weather, meaning tomorrow he could wake up to a snowstorm, or a tornado, or whatever they so pleased, and Rythian generally found precipitation annoying. 

But right now, it was the perfect weather to scout. Rythian didn’t know yet whereabouts in the Pit he’d been Released—it was a randomized process, Rank having no effect, so he could be anywhere. His preferred position would be somewhere away from the center; that was where the action tended to be, and he didn’t want to be bothered while he planned. But if not, well, he’d made more difficult things work.

By midday, though, he wrapped up his scouting mission feeling rather pleased. From the top boughs of a monstrous conifer (with more conveniently placed handholds than ought to be, he noticed), and with the help of the risen sun he’d been able to place his position a mile or so south of the lake. He’d also made a trip down to find the Border, the force field surrounding the Pit to ensure no Candidate could bolt. It was almost invisible during daytime, but on closer inspection faint lines of electric blue could be seen shifting across the sky. For curiosity’s sake, he’d tried pressing a stick through and paid for it in singed hairs and a faintly stinging hand. He didn’t stick around after that, wary of the pop still echoing through the woods and cursing himself for the lapse in judgment, and started forging his way west.

It was there that he’d made the most useful discovery of the day, nestled in an alcove among thinning trees and higher ground. The shopkeeper—what was her name? He’d respected her tenacity but had never paid her much attention. Something with an L, perhaps—had set up base on the mountain, and seemed to be fairly comfortable for the time being. He’d watched her for a while, but apparently had caught her in a downtime and decided to head back after a half hour of her boiling water. He did note that she’d been busy; she had a form of shelter set up (though poorly camouflaged) and she carried the water in a metal container, meaning she’d been out and about enough to find at least one supply pack. But otherwise, she was unremarkable, and Rythian left her to her devices. The sun now on its way in the other direction, he once again found himself crouched in shadow near Ravs’ base, checking on his progress.

He was hunkered down in the middle of the clearing, his back to Rythian so that he couldn’t see what he was doing. Slowly, Rythian slipped through the trees to get a better view, but before he even made it around Ravs stood up. Now he scanned the ground until he bent down, picking up a stick. He returned with the stick to the spot he was before, holding it out slowly. Rythian bent a little closer, unsure of what he was seeing. Then, with a sudden _thwip_ , something snapped around the stick and snatched it from Ravs’ hands, and realization dawned on Rythian.

_Traps._

Ravs, looking satisfied, reset the trap and made his way back to his base. He moved along a particular path that made Rythian newly conscious of where he himself was standing, and had previously been. How many of these things had he made? They didn’t seem to cause injury, but certainly made noise and would alert Ravs to his presence. Besides, he could know how to make something more dangerous than snares. Rythian gave the ground a quick scan but saw nothing. Ravs clearly knew what he was doing. Rythian frowned, uneasy at this revelation. To him, Ravs had always seemed a bit… clueless. He’d reminded Rythian of a dog he’d had as a child; big, strong, spirited, but possessing little to nothing in the way of brains. It had died chasing a squirrel into a ravine. 

It definitely never could have skillfully set a snare. The bartender and the dog were perhaps less similar than he thought.

Ravs was sitting now, eating a handful of nuts and gazing thoughtfully over his hidden work. A thought came through Rythian’s mind.

He could just do it now.

Rythian felt his eyes lock on Ravs, and the world slowed around him. He could promise something quick and painless. No one else could give him that.

Almost subconsciously, he stepped forward, hand settling on his katar. He could see himself stepping forward, reaching out, one quick slash—

And then his vision flashed blue.

He almost stumbled in surprise, but years spent on the hunt steadied him just in time. In front of him, he saw Ravs jump, flinging his nuts all over the ground.

The blue skull sat in front of his eyes, staring back directly into his head, and in an instant Rythian’s nerves steeled. He watched Ravs slip fearfully into his hole and then turned away, keeping his eyes strained for any traps as he quickly went back to his cave.

Inside, he kicked himself. He had just very nearly acted rashly, saved only by whoever’s death. If he’d gone out there, he easily could have fallen prey to one of Ravs’ traps. He was confident in his ability to beat Ravs one on one, but it was possible to be injured in the process. He hadn’t been thinking, and could have easily been his downfall. 

It would be his downfall, if he didn’t get his act together. Rythian reached the cave and slipped inside. He’d lost focus on the endgame today. He couldn’t afford to keep making mistakes.

He leaned back against the cave wall with his eyes closed and took a few deep breaths.

It was time to get serious.


	5. Gut

The grass whipped around Nano as she ran, thin blades against her skin. Her feet burned in her boots, and her muscles screamed, but she felt him in hot pursuit so she thought nothing of stopping, only to get away, to escape that icy face, that spidery grin—

She saw the small ravine just in time and leapt, left foot scrambling on the loose dirt but she found her purchase and kept going, not even thinking about what would happen if she fell, because she couldn’t fall, she couldn’t stop, or it would all be over, and it _couldn’t_ be over.

A whoop from behind indicated her pursuer had also cleared the jump, a fact that bolstered her a little more, despite burning lungs and aching sides.

_I_ won’t _let it be over._

She had to think. She couldn’t run forever; if they kept going like this she would eventually be caught. She tried to scan the the dimming landscape, searching for anything across the grassy plain that might spark some idea, might save her.

But it was just rolling land. Nano’s foot caught and she stumbled, but pure terror pushed her on.

She couldn’t fight him off. Everyone in this Pit was bigger than her, stronger than her. She had to lose him somehow. But where could she go? There was nothing surrounding her but empty plain. Panic, already taught through her body, bloomed another level.

_At least I won’t be first._

If she’d had any breath left in her, she might have laughed. 

But her sudden mirth was quickly dashed when she felt a horrible wrench in her ankle and then she was airborne.

For a few slowed-down seconds she floated, the ground strangely crisp in her vision as it rose up to meet her.

She _bounced._ Her body flipped and skidded, completely out of her control, for what felt like minutes, breathless and alight with new pain

And then finally she stopped, and a back corner of her brain recognized that several things were not right with its vessel, but every other part ignored this as it fixed on one damning thought: she was caught now.

She scrambled, pushing away the agony now reaching its way all up her leg. She could feel it already, hands round her throat, fists on her face, blades through her skin—she couldn’t stop the images rolling through her mind, what he would do to her now she was down, and it took several more moments than it should have for her to realize none of this was happening.

In fact, besides her own labored breathing, she heard nothing at all.

Slowly, heart leaping in fear at what she might see, she turned to look behind her.

The sun lit the plains in honey and gold, the sky a vast evening sapphire above. Wind fluttered the grass, and flowers dotted a rainbow all across.

It was beautiful, and it was empty.

Nano’s eyes snapped all around, but while her pursuer had so recently been so close, his jibing laughter down her neck and his grasp not far behind, now there was nothing. 

Instead of relieving her, her fear grew even colder. He wouldn’t have just let her be. Where was he?

Her head whipped around at a sound she didn’t hear. He must be sneaking up on her, at the very moment. She tried to hear past the gentle sounds of the daytime, for some too-quick snap or swish, but there was—

“Are you alright?”

She let out a cry and tried to scramble away, crying out again when the movement shot pain through her ankle. 

“Wait, I’m not gonna hurt you!”

Distantly, she noticed something off about the voice, and the figure stepping towards her, but her fear-addled brain could focus only on escape.

“Please, I want to help you.” The voice, though gruff, was gentle. “You don’t need to run, Sjin is gone.”

Finally, this made her pause, and she looked up at the figure.

The old one, Honeydew, stood over her, hands up in peace, sincerity in his eyes. She watched him as one hand moved to his chest.

“Nano. I have made it my mission to see you out of this Pit alive. I will do everything in my power to ensure you survive. I promise you.”

Nano gaped, struggling to process this declaration through the adrenaline still coursing her blood. 

“What…?”

Honeydew’s head bowed. “I’m sorry, I should’ve spoken to you before the Release. But I was afraid the Directors might intervene. I’m so glad I found you before it was too late.”

Nano continued to stare. 

“You… you want to help me.” She couldn’t keep the distrust from her voice.

Honeydew met her gaze solemnly. “Everyone here should have a life ahead of them, but you do the most. And I do the least, and I will give mine up to make sure you still get what you deserve.”

Nano just shook her head, unable to comprehend.

“I know you haven’t got any reason to trust me,” he said. “But I promise you, I’m tellin’ the truth.”

He tugged his bodysuit and smiled weakly. “Couldn’t even fit a trick up this sleeve if I wanted to, I reckon.”

“But why?”

Her question came sharper than she intended, fear finally having run out to anger. Honeydew blinked.

“‘S like I said.” He shrugged. “It’s not right for you to be here. not right at all. You should have a chance at a real life again.”

“But what about you? Or everyone else?”

For a moment something hard passed over his eyes. But then he smiled again, and it was gone.

“I done this before, I don’t need to do it again. As for everyone else…” He frowned. “Well, maybe it’s not fair of me to say, but I don’t think any of ‘em deserve it as much as you.”

Nano bristled. “I deserve to live, and everyone else deserves to die.” 

“‘Course not. But you’re a child, Nano. This whole thing is unfair, but it’s most unfair t’ you.”

“I can’t trust you,” she said.

“No, I s’pose not,” he said. “But I know that you can, if that means anything.”

“Not much, sorry.”

Honeydew laughed. “Well, I swear anyway. I won’t let nothin’ happen to you.”

And he held out his hand.

And Nano only hesitated to take it for a moment, because, unequppied and incapacitated, what choice did she really have?

\- 

Her ankle wasn’t broken, only sprained, and with the splint Honeydew crafted for her with the help of some supply pack bandages and tape, the pain had dulled to a throb. The rest of her body had several more new scrapes, bumps, and bruises than it had a few hours ago but already the pain of them was fading. She now rested on a bedroll in the center of a cave, which was damp and carried a bit of a chill, but was tucked away enough that it made Nano feel more secure than she had in months. Which wasn’t too difficult a task, considering, and the level of anxiety in her system was still more than enough to make her nauseous, but it was a step up from running for her life from a maniac.

Or so she hoped. 

She was essentially trapped in with him, now, with a busted ankle and zero supplies of her own. But somehow, she didn’t quite feel caged. Honeydew was cooking her some supply pack beans over a smokeless fire, and her stomach couldn’t help but grumble at the scent despite its stress-twisted knots. He was humming softly, a surprisingly warm sound from the otherwise tough and grizzled figure. Against her best interests, she felt a small part of her start to relax.

“How you doin’ over here?”

The can of beans was finished cooking, and he handed it to her, wrapped in a towel so as not to burn her hands.

“I don’t have a spoon for you, I’m sorry, but I trust y’ can be careful with this.” 

He passed her a small knife, the twelve-dagger symbol of the Pit stamped into the grip. She surveyed the items.

“How do I know you haven’t poisoned these?”

“Well, you watched me cook ‘em, I think.”

“You’ve had them since before I got here,” she pointed out.

“Would you like me taste them first?” he asked.

Nano considered this. “Might as well.”

The beans traded hands again. Honeydew scooped out a mouthful and chewed pointedly. 

“Tastes like arse, but it won’t be killin’ you.” He winked. “Would you like them back now?”

Nano had barely eaten since the Release, more than forty eight hours ago, and the scavenged berries had long since made a dent in her hunger. Before she could think twice, she snatched the can from his hands.

“I still don’t trust you,” she said, mouth full.

“I can’t really blame you for that.”

Nano swallowed. “Although, I also haven’t been able to think of a reason you would help me this much just to kill me.”

Honeydew nodded. “Me neither.”

She finished the rest of the beans in silence. Afterwards, she felt a pang of guilt for not offering any more to Honeydew, but hunger drove her to the bottom of the can before she could think. However, he didn’t seem to mind, and brought her some water when she was done in a second empty bean can, razor edges shorn down for safe sipping,

Feeling fuller and sharper, Nano gave the cave another visual sweep. Honeydew had been busy the past two days, with an evident goal of finding supply packs, as about a dozen of them were stacked near one wall, their contents spread around the floor. He’d gathered a good selection of tools and supplies, even organized two small sleeping nooks and a cooking area. His great battle ask leaned beside him. He noticed her looking. 

“I got it all ready for you,” he said. “I wanted to find you right away, but then I figured there was no point if I wasn’t prepared and got killed before I could do anything. Figured I could count on you holdin’ out a couple days.”

Nano tried not to think if he’d counted on her just a few minutes longer.

“Have you seen anyone else?”she asked.

“Not before you and your friend there today.”

Her friend. Nano thought of him, hot on her heels, and she shivered. Her ankle throbbed a little more at the memory.

“How did you chase him off?”

“I didn’t really. Honestly, he saw me before I saw him.Then he just stopped, waved at me, and slipped off.” Honeydew shook his head. “Odd fella, that one. Don’t like him.”

Nano thought of the smile, the one he;d greeted her with after dropping down into the hollow she’d been hiding in. She didn’t know how he’d found her, whether by chance or if he’d been tracking her for a while, but she felt she’d almost had a heart attack then and there. Somehow, she had gathered her wits enough to bolt, but then he’d given chase. His taunting laughter still rang in her ears.

“Thank you,” she blurted. “For finding me.”

“Just lucky, really.” He smiled. “That was the one part of my plan I couldn’t really figure out. So I just started lookin’, and there you were, thank heavens.”

They lapsed into silence, then Honeydew shook his head.

“But that’s all I’ve seen, just you two. Seems like people’re laying low.” He frowned. “Dunno how to feel about that.”

“Is that what happened last time?”

Honeydew’s face turned stony and she regretted her words.

“Sorry, you don’t have to—”

“No, s’alright.” He tugged at a braid. “It’s not how it happened, though. Six people died in two hours.”

“Oh.”

“And that’s what worries me,” he muttered. “I think people are, well, _thinking_ this time /round.” He sighed.

“There’s a lotta crazies in here, but nobody’s an idiot, far as I can tell. And that’s fuckin’ scarier than any—oops, pardon.”

Nano laughed, and it was a genuine laugh, a sound that she was surprised to find coming from her mouth. She’d more than likely be dead in the next week, and Honeydew was worried about cursing in front of her.

He seemed to realize this same fact a moment later, and soon he was chuckling with her, until they both had a hand over their mouths trying to stifle the noise. Not for the first time that night, Nano felt a small warmth bloom in the midst of her fear, but this time she did nothing to stifle it.

Then her vision flashed blue.

Their laughter died instantly, but soon Nano saw with intrigue that it wasn’t a death that lit up her eye. She closed her eyes, as she had been instructed, and pressed a finger to her eyelid to select the blue exclamation point. A message began to scroll across her gaze.

_"ATTENTION TO CANDIDATES_

_THIS IS A CALL TO COMPETE FOR ADVANTAGE_

_IN TWO SUNDOWNS, WEST OF LAKE_

_THE FIRST TO THE TOP SHALL BE GREATLY REWARDED."_

Nano read and reread the message, then pressed gently again and it blinked off. She waited for Honeydew, slower to manage his implant, to catch up.

He reopened his eyes. “Well. Seems I’m not the only one unhappy with our slow start.”

“What does it mean?” Nano asked.

“Viewers are probably bored out of their minds, so they’ve set up a test of some sort,” Honeydew said. “Where you’ve got to run into other people, and whoever wins will get something really helpful.”

“A test… who do you think will go?”

“Everyone, I reckon. If they’re actively calling on us, the bounty’s gonna be really useful. Turn the tide kinda useful.” He scratched his beard. “And people are gonna be looking for that, at this point. Or at least they aren’t gonna want someone else to get a leg up.”

Nano thought on this. “So what will we do?”

Honeydew snorted. “Well, you aren’t goin’ anywhere soon, not til that foot heals up. And I won’t leave you alone like that. Besides, my head-to-head combat days are probably numbered, so I want to save it for when it really counts.”

That made sense, but Nano didn’t like it. Once again she cursed herself for already being injured, already on her way proving the Polls right. Everyone would be fighting for a winning edge, and she was stuck useless in a hole. She’d let herself get comfortable for a minute, and now the reality of her situation was closing down again, twice as hard. Honeydew saw her frown.

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t think it’ll be an endgame type reward here, they wouldn’t want it over _too_ soon.” A glint appeared in his eye. “There’s other ways to win this thing, you know.”

Nano met his gaze, and almost smiled.

“But you better get some sleep now.” He patted the cave floor. “We can talk all about it in the mornin’.”

With those words, Nano suddenly remembered her exhaustion. She’d forced herself awake ever since the Release, and now the call of sleep was getting too strong to ignore. It bypassed the fear, the new unease at the revelation of the test, and even the last reservations about Honeydew still in her thoughts, and before she even knew it she was asleep.


	6. Hunch

Her mind moved, but it moved slowly, drifting passively from one thought, one memory to the next.

Her feelings of surprise and mistrust were still there, but muted, as everything was.

She remembered waiting, tense.

She remembered him coming, just as he’d said.

They’d stocked up. Built up strength. He wouldn’t tell her much.

But together they worked, scanning the land for a reason he did not explain.

After a long while, a soreness began to break through the haze.

Another while passed before she opened her eyes.

Even with her eyes open, taking in color and shape, it took another long few moments to do anything more. But then she realized her vision wasn’t just blurry from sleep. She rubbed at her eyes, and felt something there. She reached for her knife to find it missing. Her heart began to pound. 

Fully awake now, she sat up.

She was in a room, dusty and bare. Weak light fell through a slitted window high on the wall. Her knife lay by her feet. She picked it up and breathed out.

_I’m just in the house._

Her hand moved again to her eye. But what was…?

“Oh, you’re up.”

She whipped around at the sound of the voice, a movement that made her groggy head throb.

Lalna stood in the doorway, a pack slung over his shoulder. His left eye was covered with a piece of fabric.

“Thought that stuff would keep you out at least another few hours,” he mused. “Oh well, we are working with impromptu materials here. Better that messed up than the removal.”

Things clicked into place. The camera. The unexplained plant hunt. The bandages.

“You… you took out our implants.”

Lalna grinned. “Brilliant, innit?”

A swiftly sinking feeling was settling in her.

_He’s crazy. I knew he was crazy._

“You didn’t even ask me! I can’t see anymore!”

Lalna shrugged. “You will, though. Eyes heal fast. Give it a couple days.”

She was standing up now, one hand against the wall to steady herself, her shock giving way to anger.

“ _Days?_ We could be dead in days!” Her fist curled. “Why would you even do this?”

He watched her advance with raised eyebrows.

“Because now we’re dead.”

She stopped. “What?”

That unsettled smile was back. “It’s just a theory, but I think the implants work by intercepting signals from the brain, at least partly. Once those signals stop coming, it sends out the death message.”

Zoeya stared, for a very long moment.

“You did surgery on my eye, risking _blinding_ me, for _just a theory?_ ” Her voice was rising, despite herself. “What does it even matter? No one will even know it’s us!”

“Hey, I did it on me, too. I know what I’m doing,” Lalna said. “Besides, it’s a pretty strong theory.”

“But surely the Directors send out messages themselves.”

“Hell, no,” he scoffed. “They’re all about automation. They want to let the Pit run itself while they sit back and watch.”

Zoeya dropped her face to her hands. She took a couple deep breaths.

“Okay. Suppose you’re right, and this worked. What’s the point? People will only know that two people died. If they don’t know it’s us, what’s the advantage?”

“But they will.” He raised a finger. “Because tomorrow night, everyone will be at the challenge except for us.”

The challenge. Dimly, she remembered the message from before. Lalna hadn’t seemed to bother with it, and now she knew why. 

“How can you know everyone will go?”

“Because it’s been several days, nothing much has happened, and everybody is getting _antsy._ ” Lalna said. “This could be the chance to win it for good, and no one is gonna be passing it up. There’s too much to lose.”

Zoeya considered this. Maybe he was right. But he could still be wrong.

“You’re risking way too much for a bunch of hunches,” she said.

“I think I’m risking the perfect amount. Don’t you trust your gut, Red?”

“I said, don’t call me that,” she snapped. “And no. Not when my life depends on it.”

“Funny,” he murmured. “I think that’s the best time for it.” . 

Zoeya frowned. “Besides, now we won’t be able to see any other messages.”

“Doesn’t matter. We just need to stick to the plan, now.”

“The plan.” She raised her eyebrows. “I suppose you’ll tell me what it is, this time?”

“You know, you’re much feistier than they said at the Polls.” He tilted his head. “You’re not at all soft

She sparked. “But that’s not what you wanted, is it.”

He laughed. “No. Not at all.”

They looked at each other. Some sort of agreement was being made, a confirmation of what Lalna had proposed during that quick and whispered moment the night before Release. Zoeya wasn’t quite sure what it was, or what it would cause, but she made it anyway, only through a shared gaze.

Lalna was the first to move. He reached for his pack.

“Do you trust me?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“But you’ll follow me.”

Zoeya once again locked with his eyes. They didn’t smile detachedly with the rest of him; instead, through them glimpsed unforgiving intelligence. She set her jaw.

“What do we do next?”

The grin widened. Lalna slipped the pack from his shoulder and tossed it in front of him to the floor. Some items spilled out, techy bits and bobs that Zoeya couldn’t place.

“I may have lied, Red. We will be showing up to the challenge tomorrow.”

A bottle from the pack rolled to her feet. She picked it up and turned it around. It carried a whitish solid, and was labelled with nothing but a splintered triangle.

“They just won’t know what hit them.” 


	7. Suspended

A pyramid.

A great bloody pyramid.

It made an epic sight, tiered levels a massive silhouette against the last colors of the night sky. Lomadia crouched some distance from it, where she had been watching for nearly half an hour, trying to gather up the courage to go inside.

She hadn’t seen anyone yet, not on her way there or while watching the entrance. She had imagined a great rush, every Candidate racing together to be first to the top, but it was past sunset, on the fifth night in the Pit, and there was no one. But she still couldn’t make herself move.

She felt prepared, and deep inside there was the grim knowledge that she was as ready as she could ever be. She’d found many supplies and some armor, a helm and chestpiece, and continued to practice with her sword. But she’d been entirely alone those past five days, and now the thought of finally encountering someone else made her heart freeze. 

_Come on. You’ve got to_ go.

But her feet just dug harder into the earth. Just a little longer. She would just wait a little bit longer.

And then out of the corner of her eye she saw movement. It was dark, it was distant, but it was clear enough.

There was a figure moving carefully but quickly towards the pyramid.

In the growing shadows, she couldn’t make out who it was, only that they were slight and didn’t have much on them. They were coming from her left, approaching the west face, and she watched with held breath until they disappeared from view into the pyramid.

And then she began to run. 

The entrance loomed up in front of her, gaping and black. But she didn’t even pause as she crossed the threshold, her feet suddenly echoing on flat stone. She no longer thought about what might happen, only that she needed to be first. To win.

_To the top._

Not slowing down, she cast her gaze around, searching for some way up. She was in a long corridor, stone bricks dimly lit by flickering torches along the walls. Nothing obvious leapt out at her, no staircase, no ladder, no hanging rope. She wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, what kind of tests or trials she would be up against. But nothing reared from the dark to attack her, or snare her legs, or fire at her from holes in the walls, and she kept running, nerves and senses on fire. 

It was only another moment before she noticed the passageway seemed to open up ahead of her, a shade brighter than the dim tunnel she was in. She put on an extra burst of speed, intent on being there first, on securing the prize.

She was so busy looking up, she didn’t even notice the moment when she stepped from solid stone into air.

Several things passed through her mind in the split second after realizing what she’d just done— _what the hell where did this come from I can’t believe this you daft fucking_ idiot—so that she didn’t even have room to react when her arm _lurched_ and she slammed to a stop against the pit wall.

She was gasping, staring down at the dark beneath her, where great stone spears from the floor were just visible in the shadow. Her mind couldn’t help but flash with images of herself, impaled or crushed or probably both, a fool having run straight into her own pathetic death, if not for—

She looked up.

A face met her own, wide eyed, bespectacled, and twisted with exertion.

“Uh, hiya, d’you mind helping me out a bit?” Nilesy said, with visible effort. “I actually can’t pull you up on my own.”

Stunned with a freezing concoction of shock, terror, and confusion, it took Lomadia another few seconds of dangling before her body kicked into gear and she started to scramble up the wall. With Nilesy’s help and a blessedly rough surface aiding in grip, she eventually found herself safely back with ground beneath her feet, gasping and crawling decidedly as far as she could from the pit.

“What the fuck,” she panted, “did you do that for.”

Nilesy flopped against the ground. “You’re supposed to be going up, not down, eh?”

Lomadia rolled onto her back. “I can’t fucking believe I did that. I cannot _fucking_ believe.”

“Me neither, if I'm honest,” Nilesy said. 

The heavy reality of what had just almost happened was beginning to set in behind her shock. If Nilesy hadn’t been there exactly when he had, she’d be dead. She’d have lost, just like that. She closed her eyes.

“Why did you save me? You’d have been one step closer to winning.”

He laughed softly. “This may come as a shock, I know, but I really don’t see myself getting out of here alive no matter what I do, so I figure I’ll set my sights on getting on the good side of heaven or whatnot and avoid killing anyone. Actually, I should thank you for practically throwing yourself into a spike pit, ‘cause _saving_ people from throwing themselves into spike pits is probably a few extra points in my good book.”

Against herself, Lomadia found herself laughing. Feeling somewhat recovered, she sat up.

“Well, thanks, anyway.”

“Don’t sweat it,” he said. “But also don’t count on it, because that was purely pulled off with luck and adrenaline and I highly doubt it could happen again.”

Laughing for the second time in twenty seconds after not having done so even once in months, Lomadia was struck by an impulse.

“Nilesy, do you want to team up?”

There was no foreseeable way that banding together could end up good for both involved, not in their type of situation, but the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“Hey, why not?” He sat up and grinned. “Underdog and middle-dog together. We can be… three-quarters dog? That’s almost a whole dog. We probably have a chance.”

Lomadia would have laughed yet again, but she had just seen what was above them.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Nilesy joined her stare. “Well, I’m sorry to say, but you didn’t really think they put in a spike pit just for hoping we’d all accidentally run into it, right?”

She let out a breath. “I hadn’t got that far yet, actually.”

She had been very wrong to look for a staircase or a ladder. To get to the next tier of the pyramid, they were going to have to get god damn acrobatic.

The gap between the first and second tiers was full of a wide assortment of ropes and platforms, catwalks and handholds, any kind of precarious stunt one could come up with. In any case, if they took one wrong step anywhere, death waited for them below.

“This is the first challenge? They couldn’t just start us off with some simple rolling boulders, or something?”

“Who knows? Maybe this is it. We get up there, and there’s the magic wand or pet dragon or whatever waiting for us,” Nilesy said.

“Well, only one way to find out, I guess.”

Nilesy looked up at the floating obstacle course, then down at the spike pit. “Maybe we could live with not finding out? It’s just that I know we could definitely _die_ with finding out.”

Lomadia was already back near the edge of the pit, examining the first hurdle. “It’s like you said, we’re probably dead anyway. Come on, this first bit doesn’t look so bad. Just jump.”

Despite her words, looking at the first move made her break out in sweat. A small stone platform jutted out from the wall, hardly a meter up and out. Lomadia considered herself to be athletic, but only averagely so. And she was definitely no stunt performer. Still, she had no choice.

She was getting pretty used to that.

She took a deep breath. She took a few steps back. She refused to think of what might come next, or how she would get back down again. 

“Lomadia, be care—”

And she jumped.

She very nearly overshot it. One foot slid over the edge on the other side, but she dug in with all she had, and she stopped.

After a few tense seconds to make sure she really wasn’t about to plummet to her death for the second time in five minutes, she let out the breath she’d been holding and whooped in triumph, forgetting to care if anyone heard her. 

“It’s easy, Nilesy! Come on!”

He gulped. “I’m not sure about that.”

“You just have to jump! I’ll catch you.”

Nilesy looked as if he was about to continue arguing, but then he stopped. His expression morphed into the _oh, screw it_ that can only be achieved by those in full acceptance of the end being near, and he leapt.

He was not graceful, not by a long shot. But Lomadia barely even needed to steady him as he landed awkwardly beside her.

“See? Not so bad.”

“You definitely thought I wasn’t going to make that.”

“What? Not at all.”

“I can practically _smell_ the relief off you.”

“No way, I’m saving that for the top.”

Which was still a long bloody way off, Lomadia thought as she craned her neck to see. There were going to be at least three maneuvers requiring swinging on ropes, and a great big wheel on one of the walls especially made her knees weak.

“One thing at a time, Lomadia,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing. Hup!”

Nilesy squawked as she leapt suddenly from beside him, but then she was on the next platform, and her heart was only going about two hundred beats per minute.

“One by one, Nilesy.” She tried not to sound faint. “We’ve got this.”

It took maybe half an hour, forty-five minutes at most. There were a few near spills, several close heart attacks, and a copious amount of swearing, but no one had yet to pull the other up from thin air or watch them become speared putty on the ground. There had been an incident where Nilesy was stuck terrified on a rope for five long minutes, but they’d made it through even that, and now they were both looking up at the final hurdle.

“Lom, I cannot fuckin’ do that.”

“Come on, we’ve come this far—”

“Lomadia, I don’t say many things in all seriousness, but when I say I _cannot fuckin’ do that_ , I am serious as the fuckin’ grave, because I am absolutely gonna need one if I attempt this jump.”

Lomadia wished she could argue with Nilesy, but the truth was she was pretty sure her chances weren’t all that much better. They’d made it to the ultimate challenge, the one that had loomed like a mountain over her the whole ordeal, that she’d forced herself the whole time to ignore. But they were here now, and, like all problems, the time had come where she could no longer pretend it wasn’t there.

The wheel was fastened to the side wall, about two meters ahead and barred like a large version of the plaything of small fluffy rodents. The problem lay in the fact that the top of the wheel was also a couple of meters below the second tier of the pyramid, and would require jumping from to reach the next level. However, if this wheel was like any other of its type, which she was certain it was, knowing the Directors, it would spin. Which meant they were not only going to have to perform two above average broad jumps in succession, but they were going to have to do them quick.

It was, frankly, bullshit.

Lomadia’s whole body burned. She was bruised, aching, and exhausted, and her mind was wearing thin from three quarters of an hour of terrified stress. At this point, she doubted if she had any strength left for whatever came next. 

But they’d gotten so far.

She’d be damned if she let herself get tripped by the very last hurdle. She dug her feet into the platform. There was barely room for them to stand one behind the other; there would be no running start for this one. But she’d had to do it a couple times already. Not as far as this one, maybe, but how much difference could ten or twenty centimeters even make?

She managed to make it to the wheel. But she had no time to do anything else before it lurched down and almost flung her off.

She just barely got sweaty palms around one of the bars before the wheel was whirling back and forth with her weight, threatening to shake her loose with every change in direction. She heard Nilesy yelping in concern, but it was all she could do to just hold tight. 

Finally, though it must have been just several seconds, the wheel settled back to mostly a halt. Lomadia thought of what lay below her and could hardly breathe.

“Oh, dear God,” Nilesy moaned. “Are you okay there?”

“No, not so much,” Lomadia said through gritted teeth. 

“What do we do?”

“Well, you could just stand there and shut up while I hang precariously over my death, for one.”

Nilesy’s mouth closed over another panicked exclamation.

“Shit, sorry.” Her arms burned and she redoubled her grip. “Just a little stressed at the moment.”

“Do you… Can you swing up, or something?”

Lomadia glanced up at the second level, a lot farther up that it had been before.

“I don’t— I’m not confident in that, no.”

Her arms, already overused, shook madly at the new exertion. She didn’t have much time to figure this one out.

“Do you two need a hand, perhaps?”

Lomadia almost lost her grip at the shock of a new voice. She craned her head up.

A man stood at the next level looking down on them. Tall, wiry, and grinning, he held in his hands a thick coil of rope.

“Where the fuck did you come from?” she gasped.

“Just up the other side,” Sjin answered. “Man, but I definitely got the better one. My side didn’t have nearly this many ropes.”

Lomadia’s heart, already working double overtime without compensation, found within itself the strength to pound even harder. 

“Anyway,” Sjin said. “You do look in a bit of a pickle, and I’ve got some rope. Mighty handy in these times, I found.”

“What do you want?”

“Want? No meaning to offend, but I doubt you have anything right now that I would want. I simply thought you might want something from me, given your current, ah, situation.”

“You thought wrong, sorry,” Nilesy said, sounding surprisingly calm for someone who was likely to squeak at the sound of a skittering pebble. “See, I really don’t fuckin’ trust you.”

“And I recognize that,” Sjin said, tossing down his rope. “But your friend’s options are quite limited, I think you’ll find.”

Lomadia stared at the rope, dangling tantalizingly close in front of her. She looked up at the man.

“What reason could you possibly have to not just drop me?”

Sjin grinned. “It is a selfish one, if that comforts you.”

“Which is?”

“Environmental deaths are boring. I want to kill you myself.”

“So you’ll lift her up to the top just so you can stab her there,” Nilesy snorted. 

“No! A pre-decided fight is just as boring.”

One of Lomadia’s aching hands nearly slipped.

“Swear on it,” she blurted.

“Pardon?”

She locked with Sjin’s eyes. “Swear. That you won’t kill me.”

He blinked, then knocked a fist to his chest. “I swear I won’t kill you, at least for while you and I are in this pyramid.”

“Lomadia, come on, he’s a _liar._ ” Nilesy protested. “That’s like his whole thing, remember?”

“Nilesy, I can no longer feel my fingers, so unless you come up with any better ideas in the next thirty seconds here, there is literally nothing else I can do.”

“Yes, but—”

“Nilesy,” she said, over his rising retort. “If I die here, please kill him for me.”

Sjin’s grin widened.

“Wait, you can’t seriously be—Lomadia!”

But she was already swinging, just gently, carefully, so that she could pinch the rope between her feet and pull it closer. Then, taking what she wondered briefly might be her last breath, she made the switch.

She slammed hard against the wall, but there was no dreaded drop. She looked up. Sjin stood braced against the ground, still smirking but decidedly not yet dropping her to her death. He began to pull her up.

Bolstered by the fierce desire to not die by Sjin the raving rancher’s hand, she rappelled up against the wall on her own and in a few moments somehow she found herself scrambling over the lip of the level. Almost before she even had two feet firmly on the ground, she drew her sword and backed away, keeping an eye on Nilesy.

“See? Didn’t kill you.” Sjin said. “Should I help your pal now, then?”

She brandished her sword, noticing that he didn’t appear to have any weapons on him. “Give me the rope.”

He looked at the sword with amusement. “Alright.”

He tossed the rope, and to her mild surprise she caught it deftly. “Now get away.”

“Well, I’d like my rope back when you’re done, if you don’t mind.”

“I know how to use this sword.” _Does he ever stop fucking smirking?_

“I’ll just back away over there then.” He gestured to the passageway behind him. “Far away, in your line of sight, sound good?”

It wasn’t the optimum arrangement, but Lomadia just wanted both of them out of that godforsaken jungle gym. Sheathing her sword but keeping a firm eye on Sjin, she tied the rope around her waist for support, then tossed it down.

“Okay, Nilesy, I think just you’re gonna have to do it like I did. Can you do that?”

He looked green, but he nodded. She saw him take a deep breath, cast a nervous glance in Sjin’s direction, and plant his feet in preparation. She tensed in solidarity.

And then something hard slammed into her back.

In a brief, odd moment of visual clarity before she went over, she saw Sjin, still standing, grinning, far down the corridor.

But whoever pushed her had aimed poorly, and she found herself sailing towards the wheel, and she reached out and grasped—

Acting more on impulse than thought, she let go again and flew, crashing against Nilesy’s platform, and for the second time that day, felt his hand close around hers—

But then she felt it slipping—

Her other hand scrambled desperately for a hold, her feet battered empty air, but there was nothing, no one to hold her back, and she was falling, for sure this time—

Pain exploded in her finger, and she stopped.

“Aw, Sips, you fucked it!”

Lomadia’s brain hadn’t quite caught up to the fact she wasn’t dead. She wasn’t falling. Her hand hurt, incredibly so, but she was very much alive.

“What the hell, I didn’t know she could do that!”

“Nilesy…” she gasped.

“Well, they’re still stuck down there, I suppose.”

“Eh, good enough.”

“Nilesy.”

“Might as well leave them to it, then.” Sjin’s voice became fainter. “Nice meeting you, underdogs!”

“We’re three quarters dog, you fucking bastard!”

“ _Nilesy, for the love of God please hold onto something other than my finger._ ”

“Oh, shit, sorry—”

There was another sharp burst of pain, and then the pressure moved blessedly lower down her arm.

“Well, here we go again, then. Can you use the wall?”

By twisting a bit, Lomadia could position her feet and help propel herself up. Back on the tiny platform, she clutched her hand and examined her already swelling and discolored finger.

“Sorry about that,” Nilesy grimaced.

“Better this than the alternative,” she said grimly. “I can’t fucking believe this. Well—no, I can definitely believe it. But I’m still pissed.”

“I did say he was a liar, didn’t I?”

“And I didn’t doubt that, but I really was stuck down there. It became a choice of definitely die or probably die, so I went with probably.” She sighed. “But, all things considered, it did go about as well as it possibly could have.”

“But we’re stuck down here. Again.” Nilesy reminded her.

It was Lomadia’s turn to smirk. “Not exactly. Those idiots left us their rope.”

In the end, she had to make the jump to the wheel one more time, a task made all the more difficult with her throbbing hand. But she still had with her her strongest weapon—a simple stubborn refusal to lose—and finally they had the rope tied tightly around both wheel and platform so that the wheel could no longer spin. Now Lomadia again stood safely on the second level, where she awkwardly caught Nilesy from his wild leap up to join her. Weak with equal measures exhaustion and relief, they sank down on their backs.

“Do you ever find yourself wondering,” Nilesy sighed, “just how the hell you got here?”

“It’s shit luck, mate,” Lomadia said. “Piece of shit luck.”

“I painted pictures! Soulless little beaches and sunsets for tourists! Why am I suddenly jumping over death pits?”

“And I sold produce to old grannies. You just don’t ask for what you get.”

They relished being alive for another minute in silence. Lomadia was the first to break it.

“Onwards, then?”

Nilesy groaned. “We couldn't just stay here until someone finally comes to kill us?”

“I must say it’s tempting.” Lomadia pulled herself to her feet. “But I think I’d rather jump twenty more death pits than let Sjin or Sips win this thing.”

“I don’t have a problem with it, really.”

She started down the next corridor. “I’ll leave you behind, quarter dog.”

“Don’t you dare!” There were sounds of a small person scrambling up behind her.

Lomadia smiled faintly to herself. Together they marched into the darkness.


	8. Torrent

Rythian was feeling good.

He’d been first to arrive at the pyramid, he was sure of that. He’d seen as it had churned out of the earth, trembling the ground and spraying up fountains of dirt. The moment the earth stilled beneath his feet, Rythian had dashed in.

The first task had been simple, though he felt smug satisfaction at the fact it would most definitely trip up several of his competitors. The second floor was just as easy: only a dozen or so mindless, Pit-engineered creatures to dispose of. The third had been a test of wits, requiring the solving of a puzzle to open a great stone door. Now, Rythian advanced to the fourth and final tier, a small allowed hope of victory flickering in his gut. Pace quickening, he turned the corner to the final challenge.

And he stopped short.

The fourth tier was vast, long, and almost entirely empty. What the fourth challenge was, Rythian could not immediately pick out, but his attention was drawn only to the man, standing still at the far end with his great blue sword at his side.

Understanding dawning, Rythian drew his katars. 

“You’re the fourth challenge, then.”

“The crowd is anxious for blood,” Xephos said.

“So the reward demands it.” 

They regarded each other for a moment. Then Rythian charged.

Xephos did not advance, did not even raise his sword. In a few seconds Rythian had closed the distance. Feinting left, dodging right, he lunged. 

The blue sword blurred. Rythian was knocked aside in an instant.

He lunged again. The sword flashed again. This time he spun.

Lunge. Flash. Dodge. 

Slash. Counter. Duck.

Pain bloomed in his hand, and one of the katars skidded across the ground.

“We were only allowed one outside item, I thought,” Xephos said.

Rythian flexed his fingers, his wrist. The cut was not deep.

“My katars are a pair,” he said. “They fight as one.”

But he had the chilling sense that Xephos was just testing the waters.

“So without one you are incapacitated?”

Rythian snarled. “In your dreams.”

And the dance began again. Xephos never went off the defensive, but still Rythian soon felt more stings of his blade. He tried every trick, every erratic leap he could think of, but Xephos caught them all with solid, irritating ease.

For a second time, Rythian pulled back. A line of blood trickled toward his eye. He blinked it away.

“Three are now dead,” he said, trying not to show exertion. “I suppose you wouldn’t know anything about that?”

Xephos considered for a moment. 

“Zylus fought better than you.”

_But I still killed him, and I’ll kill you, too,_ Rythian finished for him. _Damned if I allow that._

“And the others?”

“Not my doing.”

And without warning, Xephos finally took his turn to attack. Caught off guard, after long minutes on the offensive, Rythian rolled away just in time, feeling the fabric on his back tear. Shooting to his feet, he noticed his fallen katar and scooped it up right in time to catch the second blow, a downstrike that almost drove his own blades to his skull.

He slung the sword off and sprang away, only to almost unbalance himself before Xephos’ next grand swing.

And on they went, Rythian barely staving off attack after attack, unable to get any in of his own but refusing to accept a fatal or even hindering blow. Still, the flow of battle did not change, only grew stronger in the same direction. Blood dripped. Sweat poured. Rythian ignored the fact that he was flagging, that he no longer even attempted his own attack. He thought only of winning, as he had done against so many monsters before.

And then he stumbled.

He was on the ground, back pressed to hard stone, and he heaved his katars in a desperate attempt to catch what came next—

—which never came. 

He lowered his blades.

Xephos stood over him, sword at his side, face as unmoved as ever. 

“You’re not a fighter.”

Rythian sprang to his feet, a movement much less graceful than it had been just minutes prior. Xephos looked down, unscathed and unbothered, no sign of the last hot minutes of battle anywhere on his figure, barely even a hitch in his breath, while Rythian suppressed the sting of many close calls.

And he was right. Rythian was not a fighter. Xephos was a master of the craft, a soldier of highest rank and experience. He wielded force, unwavering and bold, and with it he traded life. Rythian crept through the shadows and stole it.

He met those masked eyes and saw duty deep within. A sense of purpose that Rythian recognized, an oath that they shared: a promise to survive. Xephos’ goal was to live, and let nothing stand in his way of it. Rythian straightened, redoubling his grip on the katars.

“And you’re not a monster.”

Xephos seemed to consider this.

“You would know.”

He spoke like he always did, dispassionate and matter-of-fact. But Rythian felt new anger curl under his skin.

“Don’t underestimate me.”

Xephos blinked.

“I underestimate nothing.”

This time, they attacked together. Blue met red with a grating shriek, and then a final shove drove red from Xephos’ arm.

It was hardly anything. A nick, a scratch. But Xephos was touchable, now Rythian knew it for himself. He roared, and struck again.

Again, and again. The tide was once again his, and this time he had seized rather than been allowed it. Rythian felt new fire in his muscles, fire not of exertion or wounds. He burned with the shared promise, and he intended to come out on top.

But it seemed that Xephos was serious now.

It only took a few more strikes before he retook what was his. He had been a storm before, a wave of strength bearing down on Rythian. Now he was a torrent.

The sword came down, again and again. Rythian would have wondered how there was even time for it to go back up if he’d had room for anything but counter and dodge. 

And he was losing time for that, too.

His left arm flared with pain, brighter than anything before. A katar slid from his hand. He brandished his other with stubborn vigor, but in a second it too was knocked from his grasp. Unarmed, he turned entirely to dodging, working his way back to his blades. until a precise kick swept his legs from under him.

The sword bore down, and this time Rythian could do nothing but watch.

Then two things happened at once.

A blue skull flashed in Rythian’s vision, and the wall blew in.

They were thrown sideways, blasted by heat and stone. But having already been on the ground, Rythian only skidded, able to dig his feet and shudder to a halt. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Xephos hit harder.

He wasted no time. Staggering to his feet, he grabbed his katars and bolted, stopping at the edge of the hole with its brand new view of the lake far below. More explosions could be heard all around, rocking the floor but not close enough to throw him again. Were the Directors making an early move? They rarely interfered directly within the first week. Or had somebody won? Was the reward a self-destruct button, a chance to exterminate everyone behind? But he didn’t know how he or Xephos could have been beaten, unless there was another way up. 

He glanced back. Xephos had pried himself from the rubble, seeming to not even have lost a grip on his sword, his eyes still trained on Rythian. There was no time to wonder.

“Next time will be different,” he called. Then he jumped.

The tiers were at an incline, but only just. He skidded, dancing the line between slide and freefall, adding several friction burns to his fresh collection of wounds. At each tier he rolled the landing, sparing no hesitation before the next jump, and soon his boots touched grass. Still, he didn’t pause, not until he reached the lake, sprinting alongside it until his battered muscles demanded him stop. Catching breath and pressuring the worst wound on his arm, he turned to look back.

The pyramid exploded. Rubble rained down before him from a giant ball of smoke and flame, leaving behind empty air where stone had just stood. He watched the inferno until the last of the rubble stopped rolling, the fire dulled to a gentle roar, and the smoke drifted away over the trees. Xephos was nowhere to be found, but Rythian had no doubt in his mind that he was long gone. Then, high in the sky, lit by the dying fires below them, he saw the victors.

Sips, dangling from Sjin, bouncing hazardously through the air, a trail of different, chemical smoke behind them, their whoops of victory barely distinguishable over the distance. 

“Flight,” he said out loud. So that was the prize.

_Sips and Sjin._ Two buffoons, taking what should be his. He wondered briefly how they’d gotten so far, so fast, and who they killed for it.

_What am I saying? They definitely cheated._

But somebody was dead, by their hands or not. A third of the Candidates down. He watched the duo zigzag another moment across the sky, then turned to head back for his cave.

“They’d better kill themselves with it,” he muttered.

They wouldn’t be ahead for long, he would make sure of that.


End file.
